8
Rush Rider
Corin Quinlanden spread his hands across the splintered cedar. He appeared to be greeting the world at the start of his day, as he did on more ordinary mornings, but this was not an ordinary morning. He had one eye on the rising sun, and the other on the insidious figure of the sorcerer Mortain.
Mortain went out to address the Medvedev each morning—he had his routine, too—but there was no peace in such a gesture. He raised his hands above his head and began whatever it was he did to renew his magic’s hold. Because he did this every day, Corin had deduced that it was a necessary thing to maintain the unnatural control he had over the Saleen soldiers. He wondered how long it would hold without this daily ritual. If Mortain were to become detained.
Mads Waters watched the sor
